


At the Bottom of a Bottle

by mitslits



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alcoholics Anonymous, M/M, chester gets what he deserves, more implied hartwin than full on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-26 09:32:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12056160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitslits/pseuds/mitslits
Summary: Harry is assigned the worst possible mission: He has to attend Alcoholics Anonymous. It isn't fair, Merlin. He'll die. He's not made to be sober.





	At the Bottom of a Bottle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Corvin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvin/gifts).



> I hope you like this, my person! I tried to fit most of your likes in. :) 
> 
> I liked a bunch of your prompts, but this one stuck out to me!

“You’re kidding me.”

Merlin does not look like he’s kidding him.

“Merlin. Please. Sobriety? I’ll die.”

“Your liver might thank you,” Merlin says. There is no spark of sympathy in his eyes.

Harry groans. He sits back in his chair. He reevaluates his life choices. “Isn’t there any other agent that can take this on?”

Merlin inches one eyebrow upwards. “Oh, aye, there are plenty of agents who could take this on. But I’ve chosen _you_ , Galahad.”

A sigh. Restless fidgeting. Internal calculation of how much he can drink before the first meeting without killing himself outright. The answer? Not e-bloody-nough. “What are the details of the case?” Harry gives in with a sigh.

Merlin’s cold exterior fractures for a fraction of a second revealing a hint of a smile. He pushes a folio forward. “Everything you need to know is in there.”

Reluctantly, Harry snatches it up as he stands. “I’m doing this, but I want you to know that I’m going to be miserable. I hope you’re happy.” He stalks out of the office, file tucked neatly under one arm.

Merlin leans back in his chair, another job well done. The smile is full-blown now. He looks quite happy indeed.

-

Everything about the place is sad. Sad little plate of biscuits on a sad table that sags in the middle. Sad lights flickering overhead. Sad people sitting in sad chairs in a sad circle with sad nametags, sad, sad, sad.

Harry has never in his life wanted a drink more. He stands outside the doors, staring in through the smudged glass of the windows. “Bloody hell.”

It had been a bit of a trick to find the place, tucked away in the back of a church as it was. Religion and Harry hadn’t ever clicked, despite his mother’s insistence he go to Mass every Sunday when he was a child.

In fact, Harry had been so put off by these excursions, he’d sworn never to set foot in one again. _‘Shouldn’t have thrown in with spies, then, you git.’_ Since joining Kingsman, Harry had broken roughly 13 lifelong promises to himself, including never sleeping with a co-worker and never drinking to blackout after the age of 35. Perhaps someday he’ll tell Kingsman to fuck itself.

Today, however, is not that day. Today Harry is going to break Lifelong Promise #14, and he is going to keep breaking it until he’s sussed out their man. It’s a loathsome sort of person who’d prey on the vulnerable minds Harry sees seated in this circle.

The counselor’s suit is ill-fitting, hangs off his shoulders and sags at the knees in a way that makes Harry’s scalp itch. His voice is equally irritating. It’s thin and reedy like he’s speaking through a pan flute, old like him. “Let’s all wander to a seat then, shall we?”

Harry wanders to the nearest available seat. There’s a stain on the plastic, dark green on light green. Harry should not have worn his suit. He tries to sit on as much of the unstained plastic as he can, but he knows, just knows, that nearly half of his right buttock is directly over that wretched stain. Merlin deserves hell for this.

“Now then. We all comfortable?” Thin-and-reedy asks with a nicotine-yellow smile.

Harry grimaces. Trading one addiction for another is hardly a solution. Although, he reminds himself, that’s exactly why he’s here. Someone in this circle is dragging people out of alcoholism and into heroin addiction. Brilliant business model, really. Harry would almost be impressed if it didn’t mean him having to sit here every Thursday evening.

Who schedules meetings on Thursday evenings, anyway?

The light over Harry’s seat flickers. On and off. On and off. On. Off. Harry’s eye twitches with the blinking.

The counselor glances up at the light and back down with an apologetic grimace. “Must see about getting that fixed, mustn’t we?” he says to Harry, genial nod included.

“Yes.” Harry’s grin is brittle. “We must.”

Oblivious, the counselor claps his hands, rubs them together, grins at every member of the circle individually. “Welcome! I’m Counselor King, but you can just call me Chester if you prefer. Not Mr. King, though, Mr. King is my father.” He laughs drily. He’s the only one who does.

At the sound of silence - Harry could swear he hears crickets - Chester clears his throat. “Right. Well, I see some new faces here tonight, and I want to let you know I’m right proud of you for coming out. It takes a lot to admit you have a problem. You’ve already completed one step, and there’s only 12 in the program! Isn’t that nice?” Another smile unreturned.

Undeterred, Chester leans forward in his chair and settles his hands on his hips. “Right, then. Who’d like to go first?”

Harry stares ahead with dull eyes, old lessons from primary school flooding to the forefront of his mind. Don’t make eye contact, and the teacher won’t call on you.

Chester is just clearing his throat again when a timid woman starts to speak.

“Hello, everyone. I’m Trish.”

“Hello, Trish.” Harry says it along with everyone else, but unless Trish is hiding heroin-lined plans behind those watery blue eyes of hers, he’s less than interested.

“I’ve been addicted to alcohol for ten years now-”

The door bangs open, and a young man stumbles in through the door. He’s sopping wet; water streams off his hoodie and the brim of a cap pulled low over his face. A small puddle forms around him as he yanks the cap off and stuffs it in the back pocket of his jeans. “Shit, I’m late, ain’t I? Sorry, sorry, don’t mind me.”    

The young man slinks across the room and drops into the seat next to Harry. Water flicks onto the sleeve of Harry’s suit. “Sorry ‘bout that, mate,” the man whispers.

“Young man,” Chester actually snaps. Harry didn’t know Chester had the capacity to be angry.

Said young man snaps to attention.

“What’s your name? And what have you got to say for yourself, coming in here late, interrupting Trish’s testimony?” Chester gestures to Trish who’s looking more relieved than annoyed.

He rubs the back of his head, flicking more water from his hair. “Sorry, Trish, didn’t mean to do that. Name’s Eggsy.”

“Eggsy.” Chester’s smile shows too much teeth for it to be sincere. “We’ll let this spot of tardiness go this time, but let’s try to be on time from now on, eh?”

Looking more than a bit chagrined, Eggsy nods.

Harry feels the sudden urge to assure him that he hasn’t missed much. But he doesn’t. Instead, he sits silently and listens to Trish drone on about problems that, in his mind, hardly qualify as problems. Try massacring a church full of innocents and getting over that without a few (dozen) shots of tequila.

After Trish, they listen to Ed. After Ed, they listen to Carmen. And after Carmen, Chester turns his gaze on Harry.

“You’ve been right quiet this whole time, sir. And I don’t recognize you, which means this must be your first time here, is that right?” Chester smiles, a genuine one this time.

Christ. “That is correct,” Harry says, hoping that his cool politeness will show how little he’s interested in the proceedings.

Chester does not take the hint. He leans forward, smile turning encouraging, and gives Harry a nod. “Well, then. What’s your story?”

Harry clears his throat and looks around at the melancholy eyes all turned towards him. He doesn’t want to associate with these people. “Actually, I’m sober. I haven’t touched a drink in a little over ten years.” The lie is smooth though unpracticed. Harry can picture Merlin snorting in disbelief as he watches the feed and wishes there was some way to flip him the bird.

“Really?” Chester isn’t the only one who seems impressed. “Well that’s marvelous, truly marvelous!”

The young man from before -- Eggsy, if Harry recalls correctly -- is looking at him too.

Harry squares his shoulders. “I’ve come to be a sponsor.” He hasn’t come to be a sponsor. What the fuck is he doing? He has a mission to complete; he can’t be worried about anyone in the group other than the dealer.

Chester actually gets up and claps him on the shoulder.

Harry immediately regrets his decision. He smiles up at him in a predator’s grin, threatening instead of friendly.

Of course, Chester doesn’t take that hint either. “I’m sure you’ll be a fantastic help to one of our number.” He nods around at the circle, and the circle nods back.

“Right. I think that’s enough about me, then,” Harry says, trying very hard not to sound eager to get away from the attention. “After all, we are here for recovery. It only makes sense to put our focus on those who need to recover, don’t you agree, _Chester_?”

Chester seems somewhat reluctant to let go of Harry’s shoulder, but he does slink back to his seat. “Absolutely right. Now then, who haven’t we heard from?”

Harry gestures toward the young man sitting next to him. “I believe we have yet to hear from Eggsy.” Anything to get under Chester’s skin.

It works like a charm. Chester nods to Eggsy, but his downturned mouth and furrowed brow suggest he’s still upset about the earlier interruption.

Eggsy startles a bit and reaches to adjust the cap that’s no longer on his head. When his hand encounters only empty air, he drops it sheepishly back into his lap. “Hey. I’m Eggsy and-”

“Hello, Eggsy,” interrupts a limp chorus.

Blinking, Eggsy glances over at Harry.

Harry, confused as to why the boy turned to him, but not complaining, lifts one shoulder in a shrug.

After a second, Eggsy seems to collect himself. “Me real name’s Gary, but I don’t really go by it.”

One or two voices say “Hello, Gary” without much enthusiasm.

“...Anyway, I’m here because I got people to take care of, you know? Got a mum who could use me around the flat and all. But mostly I’m here cause I’ve got a little sis. I’m a big brother now, gotta set a good example for her, yeah? Can’t do that if I’m off in the pub getting pissed with my mates.” Eggsy reaches for his cap again and turns the motion into a head rub.

Harry, against all his better judgment, finds himself endeared.  

In fact, Harry finds himself so endeared that at the end of the meeting, he wanders over to Eggsy and the words “I’ll be your sponsor” tumble out of his mouth.

Eggsy looks up at him, blinking. His cap is back on his head and his attempt to adjust it is actually successful this time. “What?”

Harry shrugs. Smiles. Shrugs again. “I think you’re the most worth it.” Internally, he cringes. That sort of line doesn’t have a place in anything other than a cheesy romance novel. Harry’s life is not a cheesy romance novel.

Still looking a bit baffled, Eggsy inclines his head. “Yeah, alright. Thanks, bruv.”

“I should probably give you my number,” Harry says. At least, that seems like proper sponsor behavior. He’s going to have to look up what one actually does at some point.

“Oh, yeah. Here.” Eggsy tugs his phone out of his pocket, goes to contacts, and hands it over.

Harry enters in his number, the one to his personal line. Merlin is never going to forgive him for that, but Harry doesn’t want Eggsy interrupting any mission work. “There you are.” He smiles again as he hands back the phone.

Eggsy smiles in return. “Cheers. I’ll call you if I need anything, yeah?”

“I look forward to it,” Harry says without thinking about it. “Although I hope you don’t have to, naturally,” he quickly takes on.

Eggsy bites down on his lip to suppress a smile, and Harry feels like a fool. “Be seeing you, then.”

Grateful for the out, Harry nods and goes on his way. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. He’s a spy, for Christ’s sake, he’s supposed to be suave. He usually _is_ suave. There’s absolutely no reason for him to not be as suave as usual. It must be that environment, Harry thinks. No one can seem smooth in such a depressing, down-trodden place.

Next time he sees Eggsy, things will go much better.

-

Next time he speaks to Eggsy, things do not go much better.

But, Harry supposes, things are not as bad as they could have been, and he will take that as a win.

The phone call comes out of nowhere, in the middle of the afternoon. Harry is poring over the files of every person who had been in that church’s back room. None of them look like a heroin dealer, but in Harry’s experience, most heroin dealers don’t look like they have anything to do with the drug. He’s just moved to Eggsy’s file when his phone buzzes.

Absentmindedly, he reaches for it, answers, presses it against his ear. “Merlin?”

A moment of silence. “Eggsy. You know a bloke named Merlin?”

“I do.” Harry doesn’t elaborate. “Did you need something? Are you alright?”

Eggsy is quick to reassure him. “I’m fine. Just thought you might want to meet up, get to know each other a bit. I should probably know a little about my sponsor.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Harry presses the phone between his ear and shoulder, using his hands to clear up the files.

“Aces. Where do you wanna meet up?”

Harry flips Eggsy’s file closed and adds it to the top of the stack. He might not even have to look at it, depending on how talkative he turns out to be. “There’s a pub not far from my flat that’s quite good.”

There’s another moment of silence. Eventually, Eggsy says, “A pub.”

Only then does Harry realize what he has done. “Er, right. Recovering alcoholics. Best not, then.” Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. So much for not looking foolish.

Eggsy laughs. “You’re alright, bruv. There’s other stuff at pubs than drinks. I was thinking something more like a park? If you’re alright with my sister tagging on.”

Harry nods until he realizes Eggsy can’t actually see the movement. “I don’t mind in the least.” He typically isn’t good with children, but why stop acting like a trainwreck now?

“Vicky Park alright with you?”

Harry doesn’t often go to parks, and he’s actually not sure he’s ever been to Victoria Park. “Perfectly acceptable.” He’s nothing if not adventurous.

“She gets off school at about three, if you wanted to get it over with.” There’s something slightly self-deprecating in Eggsy’s tone, and Harry doesn’t like it one bit.

“I would be delighted,” he says, trying to sound as sincere as he can.

It might just be Harry’s imagination, but Eggsy does sound a bit more cheerful next he speaks. “Okay. Three, then. We can meet up at her school.” He rattles off an address.

Harry commits it to memory within seconds. “Three,” he agrees. And then they both hang up.

-

By the time three rolls around, Harry has finished perusing all his files, including Eggsy’s. He’s discovered that the little sister inspiring so much change is named Daisy, and that she’s only Eggsy’s half-sister. The step-father is out of the picture. He had been a bad drunk, and Harry wonders if there’s maybe more reasons for Eggsy’s reformation than he’s letting on.

Beyond that, none of their files had been of any interest. Chester had spent some time as a nurse before losing his job to the drink, Trish still worked as a temp but was struggling to keep up with both bills and her addiction. All of them, in one way or another, were losing their lives to booze.

Except Harry, of course. Harry is fine.

To prove how fine he is, he has a measure of brandy before heading out to the park. He deserves it, he thinks. He’s going to have to deal with a child.

Daisy’s school looks nothing like the all-boys boarding school Harry had attended as a child. Kids tumble out across the pavement, parents wait with big smiles to find their sons and daughters, everything is slightly run-down.

Eggsy waits near the front gate, and Harry spots him right off. It might just be the brandy, but he thinks Eggsy looks much, much nicer when he’s not in the cramped back room.

“Good afternoon,” Harry says as he approaches.

“Harry! Sorta thought you might not come,” Eggsy says, grinning up at him.

Harry glances at his watch to find that it nearly a quarter after three. Punctuality has never been his strong suit. “My apologies. I was tied up in paperwork and lost track of the time.”

Eggsy crinkles his nose. “That don’t sound like fun.” Before he can say anything else, a small golden-haired girl rockets into him.

Harry is immediately on the alert, spy instincts flaring to life. He crushes them down as soon as he figures out that there’s no actual trouble.

“How’s my little flower?” Eggsy laughs. He runs a hand over her head, and she reaches for him, demanding to be picked up. Grinning, Eggsy obliges.

Only when she’s settled in her brother’s arms does Daisy seem to notice the strange man standing close by. She tucks herself further against Eggsy and sticks a thumb in her mouth.

Eggsy glances from Daisy to Harry. “Daisy, this is Harry. He’s a friend of mine, gonna be helping me out a bit. Harry, Daisy.”

Not expecting much, Harry holds his hand out to Daisy. “Hello, Daisy.”

Daisy just blinks at him.

Harry drops his hand back to his side. Not the most embarrassing rejection he’s ever had. He clears his throat. “Shall we be moving on?”

“We shall,” Eggsy agrees.

Daisy stares at Harry a moment longer before leaning up to whisper in Eggsy’s ear.

“We’re going to Vicky Park,” Eggsy says in answer to her quiet question. “Won’t that be fun?” He bounces her in his arms a little.

For the first time since Harry has met her, which in all fairness was only a few moments ago, Daisy brightens right up.

“Yes!” she giggles in delight. “I wanna go to the park.” Then her eyes slide sideways suspiciously. “Is he gonna come too?” she asks, staring straight at Harry.

Eggsy bites his lip to hide his amusement. “He is. Is that alright?”

Daisy stares for another long moment in quiet contemplation. Then she gives a decisive nod. “I _guess_ so.”

Harry is relieved, and he isn’t even sure why. It’s not like this small human could actually prevent him from going. He wants, he realizes, to be on Eggsy’s good side. It’s a strange feeling, caring about what other people think. He isn’t sure he likes it.

Still, the brandy lends him strength, and Harry straightens his shoulders.

The ride over to the park is half awkward, half charming. Harry discovers that he’s not as bad with kids as he thought: he makes Daisy laugh, and by the time they’ve reached the park, she’s no longer looking at him with suspicion.

Eggsy seems to have relaxed a little, too.

The three of them stroll along the grass towards one of the playgrounds. Daisy runs along a bit ahead of them, and Eggsy keeps a close eye on her, even as he speaks with Harry.

“She’s worth turning my life around for,” Eggsy says with a small smile on his face and a soft look in his eyes.

Harry nods. He’s always been unapologetically himself, but he has to admit that Eggsy’s commitment to his family is impressive. “It won’t be easy,” he warns. Even the thought of trying to stay sober for more than one or two weeks at a time makes Harry’s stomach turn. He doesn’t even want to imagine a lifetime.

Beside him, Eggsy sighs. “Yeah, I know. But I have to try.” His lips twist wryly. “I’ve heard the first few weeks are the worst. That true?”

“Not necessarily,” Harry lies easily. “The first few weeks are when your purpose for sobering up is right at the front of your mind. You know exactly what you’re doing. That makes it easier to resist. Marginally.” There were, of course, missions that had commanded his full attention, and it had been easy to put alcohol from his mind then. Having something else to focus on had helped immensely. “After that…” He trails off, shrugs. “Things become less clear. You start wondering if it’s really worth it. Time starts to seem longer. That’s when I expect you to call me the most.” He gives Eggsy what he hopes is a supportive smile.

Eggsy closes his eyes briefly. “I was afraid of that,” he mutters.

Hesitantly, Harry pats Eggsy’s shoulder. “It might be easier for you,” he says. “After all, Daisy is somewhat difficult to ignore.”

Eggsy does brighten a bit at that. “She is, yeah. I’ll get my first chip in no time.”

Harry’s grip on his shoulder tightens into something more reassuring. “That’s the spirit.”

A woman jogs by, leashed dog trotting alongside her.

With a squeal of delight, Daisy runs straight for the dog. “Puppy!”

Eggsy jumps to stop her before they interrupt the woman’s run. “Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes as she looks over at them. “I’ve told her not to do this.”

The woman just waves it off and continues on her way.

Daisy pouts as Eggsy kneels beside her.

“You can’t do that, flower, you have to ask first if you can pet them,” he says.

Daisy folds her arms across her chest and her pout deepens. “I want a puppy,” she mutters mutinously.

The way Eggsy sighs makes it clear that this is not the first time they’ve had this conversation. Harry finds himself stepping in without meaning to. “You know, I have a dog,” he says absently, almost as if he’s just remembered it. “This old man can’t always get out to walk him, and I’ve been wondering if I could find someone to help me. Do you know anyone?” he asks Eggsy.

Eggsy quirks an eyebrow. “I dunno, mate, not many people have dogs where I live. Might be that no one around there likes dogs.”

Daisy bounces on the balls of her feet and tugs at Eggsy’s shirt. “Eggsy, Eggsy. _I_ like dogs!”

Harry looks down at her in surprise. “You do?” he asks.

She nods enthusiastically. “ _And_ I like walking,” she says, puffing her chest out.

Chuckling, Harry looks over at Eggsy. “It sounds like I’ve found the perfect candidate.” He kneels down to be on Eggsy’s eye level. “I’m sure Mr. Pickle would love to meet you. If big brother says it’s okay, of course.”

Two pairs of wide, puppy eyes turn in Eggsy’s direction. He shakes his head at the two of them and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can’t very well say no, can I?” He tries to sound exasperated, but his smile belies any real frustration.

Daisy throws her arms around his waist in an enthusiastic hug. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!”

Harry gives Eggsy a more subdued nod. “You can bring her around whenever you like. Just ring first.” He’ll be in his house at least as long as it takes to figure out who’s dishing out heroin.

“Alright, alright, we didn’t come to the park just to stand around. Go on,” Eggsy says, guiding Daisy for the playground.

She skips off to join the throng of other children.

Eggsy glances sideways at Harry. “Thanks for that, bruv. I’d get her a dog if we had the room for one, but…” He trails off into a shrug.

Harry brushes away his thanks. “Think nothing of it. It’ll be a convenient way for me to keep up with your progress, so you could say I had an ulterior motive.”

“Clever,” Eggsy says with a roll of his eyes.

One corner of Harry’s mouth twitches. “I can be when I want to be.”

The rest of the afternoon passes pleasantly enough. Daisy wears herself out on the playground, and Eggsy has to carry her back to the main road.

Harry lets them take the first cab that pulls up.

“This was nice,” Eggsy says. “Thanks.”

Harry inclines his head. “Anytime. Don’t forget to bring Daisy around to see Mr. Pickle.”

Eggsy rolls his eyes skyward. “Trust me, Harry, she ain’t gonna let me forget.” With that, he slips into the cab, closes the door, and they draw further and further away.

-

Harry rubs at his eyes. Parsing through the files over and over is getting him nowhere, but it at least makes him feel like he’s doing something. He’s just made up his mind to get a glass of scotch to calm his mind when there’s a knock at the door.

Brow furrowed, Harry goes to answer it, instincts on high alert. It could just be Eggsy and Daisy, but he’s had no calls that day, and Eggsy doesn’t seem the type to forget. He glances at the umbrella stashed just inside the doorway and curls one hand around the handle.

When he opens the door, he isn’t greeted by a megalomaniac, or a psychopath, or anything like that. Instead, Harry sees none other than Chester King standing on his doorstep.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asks, dumbfounded. “And how do you know where I live?”

Chester smiles benignly. “The meetings aren’t _really_ anonymous, of course. We have small dossiers on all of our attendees.” He nods towards the hall. “Going to invite me in.”

Still slightly bewildered, Harry opens the door and steps backwards. “Of course. Forgive me, I’m just a bit surprised to see you,” he says.

Chester strolls through the halls like he owns the place. “I wanted to suggest something for our next meeting.” He pauses to peer into the kitchen and the sitting room.

Suppressing the urge to ask why Chester didn’t just call him, like a normal person, Harry follows along in his wake. “And what might that be?”

Chester turns to face him and gives him another crystal-clear smile. “I thought you could bring your chip collection. It might help motivate the others if they see their goal physically realized.”  

“Oh,” Harry says flatly. He reaches up to adjust his glasses, a casual move, but with the dual puprose of switching on the feed so Merlin could patch in. “How many of my chips would you like me to bring?”

Chester waves a hand airily. “As many as you have! Each one symbolizes a goal for all the other members of the group.”

Harry nods again because he honestly doesn’t know what else to do. “Alright,” he concedes. “I’ll bring them to the next meeting.” And he starts heading for the door again, a not-so-subtle hint that he’d like his guest to leave.

Thankfully, Chester takes it. He follows Harry out to the front stoop, smile still fixed in place. “It’s been a pleasure.”

“Yes,” Harry says through his irritation. “A pleasure.”

With a pleasant wave, Chester is moving off down the street.

As soon as he rounds the corner and passes out of sight, Harry slams the door shut.

-

Two days after Harry’s impromptu meeting with Chester, a box of perfectly authentic AA chips arrive, courtesy of Merlin.

Harry brings them to the meeting.

Eggsy is there perfectly early that time, already seated by the time Harry gets there with the box tucked under his arm. “Hey,” he says with a nod. “What’ve you got there?”

Harry settles in the seat next to him. “Just something for the meeting,” he says, placing the box on his lap.

Eggsy smirks. “Secrets, then, is it?”

Harry smirks right back. “Secrets indeed.” He falls silent as others start trickling in. He watches all of them closely, straining for any hint of who might be his culprit.

But all the patrons look as nondescript and disheartened as the first time.

Huffing, Harry turns his attention to Chester as the meeting starts.

“Welcome, everyone,” Chester says. “Today, I have a bit of a surprise for you.” He glances briefly over in Harry’s direction. “But first, if anyone would like to share, I’m sure we’d all be happy to listen.”

Harry suffers through Dan and Lily’s sob stories before he and his box are called upon.

Chester gestures to him. “Harry has graciously agreed to show you all something I hope will act as motivation. Harry?”

Harry opens up the box, revealing the chips.

Eggsy plucks one out of the box and turns it round in his hands. “Five months,” he says. “That when it really gets hard?” He shoots Harry a smile, but there’s an underlying tension in it.

Harry reaches out to pat his shoulder once. “I’ll still be there five months from now,” he assures him, though he can make no such assurance. “Whenever you need me.”

The rest of the group huddles around, all curious to see what they hope to achieve themselves.

Harry feels like a fraud, sitting there with his box of fake chips, none of which he’d earned. All he’d had to do was put in a call to Kingsman. These people weren’t going to have it so easy. At least, all but one of them.

A renewed sense of purpose rushes through him. He has to route out whoever would pull them back down. And he has to do it soon.

-

It’s a surprisingly long time before Harry hears from Eggsy about coming by to see Mr. Pickle. Three weeks pass, the meetings getting more and more depressing each time. Harry isn’t saving them, and he desperately wants to. For their sakes.

Yet none of his investigating has turned up anything useful. The closest he’d come was seeing Trish and Carmen swapping lasagna recipes in the hallway after the meeting.

Eggsy has called a few times on particularly hard nights, and Harry’s heart breaks for him. He’s trying so hard for his mother, his sister. Harry can hear it in his voice.

After those calls, Harry usually gets pissing drunk, just to remind himself he can.

Needless to say, Harry’s heart sinks when he sees Eggsy’s number flash up onto his screen. He answers it with a solemn, “Eggsy.”

“Oi, don’t sound so down.” Eggsy’s voice is as light as Harry’s ever heard it. “I was just wondering if now would be a good time to bring Daisy ‘round. You know, to see the dog.”

Harry raises one eyebrow, even though Eggsy isn’t actually there to see it. “You are aware ‘the dog’ has a name?”

Eggsy snorts. “Yeah. Weren’t aware you were such a tightwad about it.”

Harry splutters in righteous indignation. “My _wad_ is the perfect amount of tight, thank you very much!” And he honestly can’t believe those words just came out of his mouth.

Eggsy laughs for a long, embarrassing minute. “I’m sure it is, Harry. So, good time or bad?”

Sighing, Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. “Right. It’s fine, you can come over. With the sister.”

Eggsy inhales through his teeth. “Ouch, good one, bruv. Might have to make a stop at the A&E for that burn.”

Despite it all, Harry finds himself smiling. “I look forward to seeing you again,” he says. He even means it.

Not long later, there’s a knock at the door. Harry is much more welcoming than he was with Chester. “Hello, Eggsy, Daisy.”

Eggsy greets him warmly enough, but Daisy is too busy peering into the entryway to bother.

“Where’s Mr. Pickle?” she demands.

“ _Daisy_ ,” Eggsy chastises. “Don’t be rude.”

But Harry waves it off. “I don’t blame her for being excited. I’m sure Mr. Pickle’s around here somewhere.” He turns a bit and whistles.

As Eggsy and Daisy join Harry in the entryway, a small Jack Russell comes padding up, nails ticking smartly on the hardwood floor.

Daisy lights up in delight. “Can I pet him, can I pet him?” Despite her excitement, she seems to have remembered the incident in the park.

“Of course.” Harry leans down to scoop up the little dog. He holds him out towards Daisy.

She stands stock-still as Mr. Pickle sniffs at her, but a huge grin spills over her face at the first lap of his tongue. He keeps licking at her hands and face, wiggling in Harry’s grip.

Eventually, Harry lets go, and the two go streaking off through the house.

Eggsy watches her go, slightly worried, but Harry assures him he doesn’t have to be.

“Any rooms I don’t want them getting into have their doors closed,” Harry tells him.

Eggsy nods, but the anxious expression is still there.

Brow furrowed, Harry asks, “Are you alright?”

“I think so,” Eggsy says and scratches at the back of his neck again. “Kinda had something I wanted to talk to you about, though.”

One eyebrow lifted, Harry leads Eggsy to one of the aforementioned closed doors. “My office,” he explains. He settles Eggsy in one of the black leather chairs. “Tea?”

Eggsy nods. “That’d be great, thanks.”

It takes a few minutes to prepare the tea, and Harry comes back to find Eggsy up and about, perusing the newspapers plastered up on the wall.

Eggsy looks at him curiously as Harry hands him the teacup. “What are these all about?”

Harry sips at his own tea before answering. “A calendar of sorts,” he says carefully. “Their dates are all important to me.”

Eggsy peers more closely at the dates, but if he’s looking for something in particular, he doesn’t seem to find it. Eventually, he hums and resumes his former seat.

Taking that as his cue, Harry drops into the chair behind his desk. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

Eggsy glances back at the door, ascertains the doorway is empty, and scoots his chair a bit closer anyways. “Has Mr. King said anything… strange to you, lately?”

Instantly, Harry is on the alert. He tries not to look too eager as he leans in closer as well. “What kind of strange?” he asks.

Still with that slightly worried look on his face, Eggsy shifts in his chair. “I dunno, really. Just mentioning how hard it can be to get by without anything. Talking about how the first few months really are the hardest, but that he’s always there to help if any of us need it.”

Harry’s eyes narrow, and Eggsy’s face falls.

“Shit, I’m an idiot. Course he wouldn’t say nothing like that to you. You’re sober.” Eggsy runs a hand down his face and sighs deeply.

Harry sits back in his chair, contemplating. “Eggsy,” he says finally. “What I am about to tell you is going to be difficult to believe, but I assure you it is entirely true.” He can tell he’s got Eggsy’s attention by the way his eyes sharpen. “I’ve not been sober for more than a month at a time for the last-” he does a few mental calculations, “-15 years. My appearance at the meetings is nothing more than a sham.”

Eggsy opens his mouth, probably to ask why the hell he’s going to them if that’s the case, but Harry holds up a hand to forestall him.

“Please, let me finish. I’m still going there for a reason. I have reason to believe that someone in that group is trying to get members addicted to heroin. One crutch to another. I’ve been spending my time looking for this person.” Harry can tell he’s losing Eggsy. The younger man’s brows are arched skeptically. “And now,” Harry barrels on, “I think that person might be Chester.” He falls silent.

That silence stretches on for a good two or three minutes.

“Right,” Eggsy says eventually. “And where are you getting all this from, anyways?”

Harry shakes his head. “That’s besides the point,” he says.

Eggsy levels a disbelieving frown in his direction. “Yeah? Then what _is_ the point, Harry?”  

“I think it could be helpful if you continued talking to him,” Harry says. “Or at least listening to him. Obviously, he’s never going to make me the offer I’m looking for, but he might make it to you.”

Eggsy isn’t jumping on board as easily as Harry had hoped. He still looks vaguely suspicious. “So why say you’re sober?” he asks. “If it would be more convenient to act like you’re still addicted.”

Damn him. The boy’s too clever for his own good. Harry presses his lips together and tries to come up with anything that isn’t the truth. “Because…” Usually, he’s better at lying. He’s never not had a lie ready on his tongue when he needed one. But now he finds himself deserted. “Because I saw something in you worth saving, and I thought I could help.”

There’s another long silence, twice as awkward as the first.

Eventually, Eggsy clears his throat. “I think I need some time to think this over,” he says shortly.

Harry sighs and inclines his head. “Of course.”

Eggsy gets up and goes out calling for Daisy without looking back at Harry.

Harry sits in his office chair and listens as Eggsy collects Daisy, walks back down the hall, and shuts the door behind him.

-

The next few days are some of the most frustrating. After all this time, Harry has a lead, and he can’t do anything with it. And it’s all because he’s a supreme idiot.

He reads over Chester’s file again and again, searching for any indication that he might have missed. He finds it on the fourth perusal. A former nurse. It’s not much of a connection, but the man would know how to handle needles, drugs, and people struggling with addictions. He would have seen the worst of the effects they could have and know how to avoid them. Or how to cause them.

The paper crumples in Harry’s hand. A clearer picture of what was going on was beginning to form in his mind. It was a ruthlessly efficient system: get someone prone to addictive substances hooked on yours, take them for all they’re worth, and when they’re no longer useful, slip them just a bit more than what they should have. Then repeat the cycle with an entirely new group of victims.

Of course, that’s only a theory. Harry doesn’t have any proof, and he might not get any unless Eggsy agrees to help him.

Late one night, just as Harry has opened a bottle of wine with the intention to drink it all down, his phone rings. Eggsy’s name is on the screen. “Hello, Eggsy.”

“Hey, Harry. I’ll help you.”

The waiting after that doesn’t get much better. It’s the same routine, Harry going to the meetings, drinking at home afterwards, and helping Eggsy through particularly rough nights. If he’s being honest, he’s surprised Eggsy still wants his help.

When he asks Eggsy about it, he just shrugs. “Even if you ain’t been sober yourself, you still helped me. Don’t see why that would change now.”

The only difference is that Harry now notices how Chester corners Eggsy after the meetings. He never stays close enough to hear what’s said directly, not wanting to arouse any suspicion, but he waits outside the church to make sure Eggsy makes it out all right. He’s also given Eggsy a wire.

At first, Eggsy had been pretty skeptical about wearing it, but Harry had assured him that he couldn’t act without solid evidence. Reluctantly, Eggsy had agreed to use it.

The fifth week after Eggsy’s revelation, his and Chester’s after-meeting tryst takes longer than usual. Eggsy emerges looking more than a bit on edge.

“It’s him,” he tells Harry as he falls into step beside him. “He made a direct offer. Wire’s got it all. You can take him out now, right?”

Harry nods grimly. “With pleasure.”

The meeting after that is the most interesting one yet. Eggsy doesn’t show up, as per his and Harry’s plan.

Chester seems distracted during the meeting, keeps glancing at the door as if he expects Eggsy to walk in at any second.

Harry has to keep himself from smirking.

Chester is still watching the door as the meeting comes to an end.

People start streaming out, but Harry lingers, making a show of tidying up the chairs. When he sees Chester heading for the lights, he clears his throat. “Chester. I was wondering if I could have a word?”

Genial smile perfectly in place, Chester turns and nods. “Of course, Harry! What can I help you with?”

Harry doesn’t bother with more words. He grabs Chester by the shoulder and slams him up against the wall, eyes blazing with anger. With his free hand, he grabs Chester’s jaw and squeezes. “It’s over, Chester.” His voice trembles with the anger he’s not even trying to suppress.

Not only had this man tried to sink Eggsy into a drug stupor, he’d done it before. Multiple times.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chester rasps. His eyes have gone wild and terrified, hands scrabbling at Harry’s grip.

Harry bears down harder, merciless. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he spits through gritted teeth. “I’ve heard what you were saying to Eggsy. I know what you’ve already done.”

The blood drains from Chester’s face even as a cold hatred fills his eyes. “You can’t prove anything.”

“I already have,” Harry says. There’s steel in his smile. “And the best part is, the only jurisdiction I need to punish you is my own.”

Real fear seems to grip Chester for the first time. “You’re a bloody Kingsman,” he rasps.

Harry doesn’t have to bother hiding his smirk anymore. “As the Americans would say: damn straight.” He wrenches Chester’s head to the side, snapping his neck.

With a ‘tch’ of disgust, Harry steps back.

The body falls to the floor with a thud.

Harry rubs his hands against the legs of his suit and walks out of the church. He activates his glasses. “Mission complete.”

-

“Let me get this straight,” Merlin says, thoroughly unamused. “You spent a solid two months complaining about this assignment. And now you want to keep going to the meetings.”

“That’s right,” Harry says, completely unapologetic.

Merlin takes one deep breath in and lets it out slowly. “Might I ask why?”

Harry gets to his feet. “There’s someone there I need to help.”

Merlin stares back at him, but doesn’t move to stop him. “The boy,” he says. He doesn’t have to ask.

Harry smiles faintly and nods. “His name is Eggsy.”


End file.
